


When I Think About You

by Kahvi



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Bodyswap, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 21:48:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3265556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahvi/pseuds/Kahvi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rimmer has something of a realization, after having taken over Lister's body temporarily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Think About You

Rimmer ran. 

No one had ever told him that you shouldn’t run away from your problems, and even if they had, he was of a mind to smegging well give it a good go. He slammed through the diesel decks on unfamiliar feet, unfamiliar heart in an unfamiliar throat. Space, even having any of the above was unfamiliar, which didn’t help his mounting anxiety. Had he really been dead that long? When was the last time he’d felt… 

_No._ He’d have no truck with _feelings_ , thank you very much. Consider the decking. The boilers. The rather excessive piping into sub-valve system four. There. He could slow down now. Well, he had to slow down now; Lister’s body had things like lungs and vascular systems, and apparently muscles, and they all seemed to be giving out all at once. Collapsing behind a storage bin, Rimmer pressed back against the cold metal and tried to block out the fact that he could tell that it was metal and cold. 

Everything had gone terribly, terribly wrong. 

In hindsight, the gloves might have been a mistake. Rimmer’s – or rather Lister’s – hands were much too different from his own, making fine manipulation difficult enough without added layers between those ridiculously thick fingers and, in this case, a pair of sturdy tongs. 

But anyway; the tongs. Well. The tongs had been _essential_. Otherwise how could he… well, how _could_ he? Hence the blindfold, too; Rimmer wanted no part of his senses, borrowed or not, to take any notice whatsoever of Lister’s unmentionables. Or was that underwear? It probably was; he wasn’t thinking clearly. _Bits_ then. No notice whatsoever of Lister’s bits. 

The fact that metal on flesh, and such particularly sensitive flesh at that, would make the flesh take notice entirely on its own, had not occurred to him. And at that point, of course, it had been too late. The moment he felt it, it had been too late; the visual confirmation was just that; confirmation. He’d realized immediately, and so, he ran. 

The moment he’d felt Lister’s penis, Rimmer knew without a smidgeon of a doubt that he was gay.

* * *

If you couldn’t run away from your problems, you very certainly couldn’t run away from your sexuality, but again, this was not something Rimmer was currently aware of. His mind was racing all the while he was trying not to think, which was a nauseating experience. Although, the taste of blood in his mouth might indicate that exhaustion could have something to do with that particular ailment, too. His trousers were too tight; uncomfortably so. It was only when he’d opened them up that he realized _why_ this was, and why opening them up had been the absolute _worst_ thing he could have done under the circumstances. 

Lister’s penis, erect and frighteningly upright, stared at him from the open fly. 

Rimmer stared back at it, trying to find a way to comfortably sit on Lister’s oversized hands. He didn’t know what else to do with them. “Bastard,” he told it, to absolutely no effect. 

All right. There had to be a way out of this. The very thought that anyone who ever knew him could potentially find out he was attracted to men added to his nausea considerably. His family; mum, his dad, his brothers - especially Howard, but let’s get real, what were the chances of him ever meeting Howard again? What were the chances of meeting _any_ of them anymore? If only he had access to a fraction of the computing power that it took to simulate him, he might possibly calculate the probability! 

Rimmer closed his eyes (Lister’s eyes, damn them), which did help for a little while. His thoughts settled. Fine. He was experiencing arousal at the sight of a penis. A man’s penis, which could only mean one thing: he was attracted to men. Or did it? Maybe… He shifted, Lister’s hands growing numb beneath him, prickling uncomfortably, _maybe_ he wasn’t thinking this entirely through. He was feeling sexual arousal, certainly, but where was that arousal coming from? Not his brain; his brain, such as it was, was currently projecting a simulation of Lister’s personality somewhere else on the ship entirely. The brain his own personality, his mind, was inhabiting right now was not his own, but _Lister’s_. Lister’s brain, Lister’s body, Lister’s hormones. Rimmer gasped in sudden realization, his eyes bursting open. 

_Lister was smegging gay._

Oh, what a relief. What a relief and simultaneously, what shocking, terrible news! Rimmer wasn’t gay, but for years now, entirely oblivious, he’d been bunking with a bender. What sort of disgusting behavior had Lister been up to while Rimmer had been still alive and breathing, his tangible, vulnerable body just meters below Lister’s ever night? Rimmer pulled Lister’s hands out to shake them back to normalcy, shaking his (Lister’s, smeg it all) head along with them. By Io, he’d had a lucky escape there! For all he knew, Lister could have been pulling at his oversized shlong with his oversized hands with Rimmer sleeping innocently below. Disgusting! He let out a breath that was almost a laugh as he slowly relaxed and leaned forwards. 

He blinked.

Lister’s hands – those uncontrollable gay, pervy hands were wrapped around Lister’s cock, which unfortunately was wired to Lister’s nerve-endings and in turn his brain, where it hit Rimmer with the force of an electrical storm. 

He’d… 

He had… 

No. No, he’d surely never experienced anything sexual before, if this was what sex felt like. If the simple act of hands on penile skin could feel like this, what would be the point of going any further. _Ah_ , he thought as the hand began to move, _that. OK, that was a pretty fair point._ Was it the gayness? Did gay men feel things more keenly than normal, manly men? It had to be something; Rimmer knew what masturbation felt like, and it was nothing like this. It was hurried, frantic and necessary, release coming as a mildly pleasant afterthought, followed by a brief moment of comfort before guilt and worry seeped in. But this? He’d been trying to look away, but now he turned back, focusing on the movement and the look and the sensation. 

Smeg, he might as well enjoy it. It wasn’t really _him_ , was it?

Rimmer clenched the hand, relying on Lister’s muscle memory as he thrust into it, lifting slightly off the floor with each jolt. Goiting _hell_ , it looked… it looked like nothing he could ever have imagined, and that smell should really not be so appealing. The… erection was darker than the rest of Lister, and significantly thicker than Rimmer’s own. Almost darkly purple in the deck’s low light, it glinted with sweat and other slickness, and felt wet and alarmingly warm as it moved. 

Rimmer wanted to yell, but the voice would not have been his, and that was a bit too much to consider right now. Not thinking, he stuck a finger in what wasn’t his mouth. It didn’t taste like much, but whatever it was went right to whatever was fueling this. He sucked it in, working Lister’s cock with Lister’s hand and Lister’s finger with his mouth, whatever incidental grunts and scuffs of boots on metal echoing around him entirely not registering. 

He _surged_. He felt… alive. 

Orgasm hardly registered; it was all one. Rimmer sat for a full five minutes waiting for Lister’s erection to come back, but apparently his body didn’t work like that. Maybe that was a gay thing too. How should he know? Gay things were entirely beyond him.

* * *

Later that night, he looked into the mirror and tried to see himself in Lister’s face. Surely there had to be something; some movement of the muscles, some glint deep in the eyes? But there was nothing; nothing at all. 

For the best, perhaps. Perhaps for the best.


End file.
